Free Chasing Freedom Home (Malinding) by Tom Ireland Page B

that stretch of water that night. Four hours were more than enough. Ed was relieved when the captain slapped him on the back and sent him back to bed. He fully intended to undress and shower but he collapsed onto his bunk and slept soundly for the next eight hours.
    His life reduced to basics: sleep, food and work. He became used to the motion of the ship and the routine of life aboard. The atmosphere was amiable; smiles were the commerce of daily life. The ship called at Tangier to unload half a dozen tractors and loaded several bales of tie-dyed cloth to fill the space. Ed-Lamin was loaned to the engineer to polish some brass work in the engine room. Had anyone boarded the ship with the authority to check the crew Ed, covered in engine-oil and hands blacker than usual with Brasso, would have appeared to be a normal member of the labour force. One night in harbour had Ed clutching at hand rails to steady him against the lack of movement as the vessel tied firmly to the harbour wall. He fell asleep that night holding firmly onto the edges of his mattress to combat the unaccustomed stillness of the cabin.
    Next morning the voyage continued. Ed breathed a sigh of relief as soon as they were out of sight of land. The captain noticed the relaxation showing on the young man's face.      
    'I know the feeling, lad. Sometimes I feel like setting sail and keeping a good few miles between me and the land. But we're sailing into friendly waters now. I used to have these thoughts as we were coming into Liverpool bay after a long trip but now it's the opposite; give me Africa any day of the week. It's where civilisation started and it's where civilisation has come to rest. There's still problems, of course there are. But I feel safer walking down a dark alleyway in Dakar or Banjul than ever I felt at home, and it's worse there now that PPP crowd have seized power. You're going home and I envy you.'
    It was the longest speech he had heard any one on the ship make.
    'Captain, Thanks. Thanks for taking care of me. I thought I'd lost everything but you remind me I'm going home and that I've got a home to go to. I owe you a lot.'
    'You owe me nowt, lad. You've given me the chance to do something for humanity and I'm glad to do it. All you owe me is the duty to pass on any kindness you've been shown. You'll have plenty of opportunity to do it. Sorry lad; my father was a preacher and it's catching. Now shut up. The next land you'll see is Africa. We'll sail along the coast till we reach Dakar and maybe that's where we'll part company, unless I pick up a cargo for Banjul or somewhere further south. Anyway, you'll be on African soil and your tongue will get you home somehow or other. You still have your tribal language?'
    'Yes sir. I was teaching Jane to...' he stopped and dare not go on. The thought came to him that he might never see her again, or even hear how she was or what had become of their child. He stared into the distance as if trying to see the future and could not do so. The captain walked quietly away to the other side of the bridge and prayed for the safety of his own family.

12
     
    The new car had arrived a day after his wife had left to care for her parents. He had slept badly; surprised that he actually missed the snoring hulk with whom he had shared a bed for twenty-odd years. He was in the kitchen, fiddling ineffectually with the espresso machine when a large grey and black four-wheel drive car pulled up by the kitchen door. A man in uniform, smart, middle-aged, got out and opened the rear door of the car. A young woman stepped down and handed a case to the man.
    ‘I’m Grant, your driver sir. This is Miss –‘
    ‘Theresa, sir, like the saint. I’m your housekeeper, sir. I cook and tidy and wash. I can take message and run errands. I’ll do the shopping and I’ve got IT skills too. Anything you need sir, anything at all. Really.’
    ‘Really?’ He was not in the best of moods. ‘Anything? Right. Fix this